


Lose Yourself

by Amonae



Series: Holiday Gifts 2016 [9]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, mild dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9515813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amonae/pseuds/Amonae
Summary: Tony gets mildly injured during a battle and Steve reprimands him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antigrav_vector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/gifts).



> For [Disco](http://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector), as part of my own little holiday exchange. Not going to lie, this was the first thing my brain came up with when you gave me the word “hard,” so… you’re welcome?
> 
> Thank you so much for putting up with all of my whining and agonizing throughout the year. <3
> 
> A HUGE thank you to [dapperanachronism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism) and [robin_tcj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_tcj) for pulling through and betaing this for me. You guys are freaking superstars.

“Tony, what the _fuck_ were you thinking out there?!”

Oh good. At this level of cursing, Tony had most certainly pissed the good Captain off. Probably enough to warrant another lecture about the probability of him remaining on the team, or at the very least, a lecture about the safety of their mission and the civilians.

With arched brows, Tony swiveled on the barstool, mindful of his left side, which was quickly turning into a mottled collage of purples and yellows. He’d thought he would manage to avoid Cap’s wrath, coming straight to his penthouse suite instead of detouring to the workshop but it seemed as though _someone_ had betrayed his intentions to be alone.

“Thanks for nothing, JARVIS…” Tony mumbled under his breath before plastering his face with a blistering smile and turning toward Steve. “I was thinking about how that complex was about to come down onto a crowded street. I assessed the situation and controlled the damage.”

“Controlled the–” Steve spluttered. Tony could practically see the rage building in the crimson hues of Rogers’ face. And suddenly, his whole expression fell and went blank. It would be a frightening transformation, if Tony hadn’t seen it happen before. 

“And _what_ about _your_ damage, Stark?” Steve growled, fists clenching at his sides. 

Tony lifted his shoulder in a shrug, holding back a grimace at the pull that the movement caused in his side. “I’m fine. Nothing a few cocktails and a–hey!” He was trying futilely to pull the edge of his tee shirt back down, to cover the mosaic of bruises. It was too late. By the time he’d managed to cover himself back up—well, more like by the time Steve had seen enough and let go—the edges of Steve’s eyes were ringed with concern. 

“Look, it’s fine. I can take care of myself,” Tony started, his jaw set as he looked away. It was only a second before Steve’s hands were on him, gripping his upper arm and whirling him around. Before he knew it, Tony was pressed chest-first against the smooth surface of the bar, the edge digging painfully against his hips, and his shirt was being pulled up all over again. He flinched as cold hands drifted across what he assumed was the pattern of bruising.

“It’s only two cracked ribs and some surface bruising, Cap…” Tony mumbled, hissing through his teeth as those same chilled digits pressed hard against his side. “Fuck, you trying to make those broken ribs instead of cracked?”

There was a quiet growl, but the pressure eased up and Tony felt like he could relax. That is, until he heard the quiet murmur of Cap speaking under his breath. “Why do you do this to yourself, Tony…?” 

He knew better than to respond. Really, he did. It was the fact that his mouth didn’t quite want to communicate with his brain that was the problem. “I have shit self-preservation instincts?” 

“Damn it, Tony,” came the answering growl before Tony felt the other’s weight against his back, soft presses of lips against the aching flesh. “When will you learn…” Another kiss. “Some of us…” and another swift press of lips, the words trailing off to nothing. 

Tony moved to turn his head against the bar, attempting to get a look at the man behind him, but a hand tangling through his hair stopped his movements short. The other hand lingered at his hip, thumb tracing the bare skin just above the line of Tony’s jeans. Tony bit his lip and tried to still the heavy beating in his chest. “Steve…?” he whispered, trying again to move his head. The fingers in his hair tightened their grip. Tony stopped trying to move. 

“I can’t believe you,” Steve whispered, his voice muffled against the bunched material of Tony’s shirt. “You don’t even…”

He didn’t get to hear the rest of what Steve had been whispering as a moment later there was a hand fumbling with the button to his jeans and Tony had, with quickening clarity, an idea of where this was going. It had happened once or twice before, when a mission hadn’t gone according to plan, and Steve needed to blow off steam. Or, more accurately, Steve had needed to fuck Tony against the nearest hard surface before he could regain some semblance of control.

“Steve,” Tony said, voice less unsure as he rolled his hips back, away from the bar. He kept his mouth shut, as much as he wanted to talk, to fill the silence with meaningless chatter, to brace himself against the emotions pressing tight against the bruising on his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to break the quiet. 

He didn’t have to speak, it only took a few seconds before Steve moved again, pulling at Tony’s waistband and sending his jeans and underwear crumpling to the floor. Tony didn’t even have time to gasp before he heard the sound of something tearing open. He twisted his head as much as he could, Steve’s fingers still threaded through his hair, to see Steve ripping open a packet of lube with his teeth. Tony groaned quietly. Steve was still in uniform. Tony didn’t regularly keep lube kicking around at the bar. Which means Steve had come prepared, he had _planned_ this.

Fuck, that was hot.

Tony rolled his hips back again, his dick already demanding attention he knew it wouldn’t receive. “Steve,” he keened, his face being forcefully turned away again, limiting his view of what was happening behind him. 

“Tony, just…” Steve trailed off, swallowing around the words. “Just let me… _please_.” The last word was barely a broken whisper and Tony found himself struggling to breathe against the weight of it. He nodded his head, unable to do much more, before he felt the familiar press of a slick finger against his hole. 

A soft noise slipped past Tony’s lips before he stifled it. He bit hard at his bottom lip as his fingers reached for the far side of the bar, searching for some kind of purchase to ground him, to keep him from rolling back, seeking _more_. He barely managed to stifle a groan as Steve slid a finger inside him, agonizingly slow, dragging against the rim before pressing in again, changing the angle, seeking. Tony knew begging would get him nowhere, would only make Steve slow his pace even more, but he couldn’t help the quiet, “Steve…” that fell from his mouth.

That earned him the slow-slide of Steve’s finger pulling out, moving to trace the furl of Tony’s pucker before drawing away entirely. Tony was about to protest, to complain, when two fingers pressed hard and fast into him, punching a breath from his lungs. His short nails dug into the edge of the bar.

“Fuck, Steve, I… I need…” he mumbled, rocking his hips forward to try and get some friction against his dick before striking his hips back to meet the press of Steve’s fingers. 

“Shhh,” Steve hissed, moving to bracket Tony’s body with his own, leaning down to press his lips against the arch of Tony’s spine. Tony could feel Steve’s erection against his ass, even through the layers of the uniform. _Fuck_ he was going to die before he even got to come, at this rate.

No matter how much he whined and complained, how often he twisted and rolled his hips, Tony was denied anything more than the slow and steady efforts of Steve stretching him, sliding a third and then a fourth finger to join the two already inside him, carefully angling away from Tony’s prostate. Tony knew that Steve did it to be careful, to be overzealous in the prep so he could lose himself in the actions that came after. 

Steve finally, slowly, drew his fingers out, slipping back over Tony’s rim with a slick _pop_ that had Tony squirming against the bartop. A flash of agony arched through his side but he ignored it in favor of focusing on the sound of a zipper, the press of hot flesh sliding slick and smooth through the mess of lube in Tony’s crack. 

Tony let out a strangled sound as he felt the head of Steve’s cock tug at his hole before continuing to slide along his lower back. “S-steve, _please_ …” he cried, sure he was going to fucking lose it with the first thrust, at this rate. His own dick was pulsing hard, smearing precome against the front of the bar when Tony arched his hips far enough forward to touch it. 

The only warning he got was Steve’s hands tightening their grip in his hair and on his hip before the length of his dick was pressing inside, hot and insistent. Tony hardly had enough time to gasp out a strangled groan before Steve’s hips were pulling back and snapping forward, hard enough to rock Tony against the bar, his erection sliding against the smooth wood and through the slick mess he’d made there. 

Tony could feel his back arching, his balls pulling tight against his body as he barrelled so close to orgasm he could taste it. And then Steve’s voice was in his ear, his warm body blanketing Tony’s as his hips continued to pump forward at a merciless pace. “Don’t come.”

A quiet wail echoed from Tony’s lips as he tried to reign it in, to pull back from the edge. He tried calculating algorithms, mapping out the designs of the new suits, anything to keep him from falling, tumbling over the edge. But Steve was brushing over his prostate with each pass and Tony couldn’t keep the pleading whimpers from tumbling forth. “Steve, please. _Please_. I need to… I… _please, Steve_.”

Steve let out a quiet groan, his movements getting harder, sloppier. He moved the hand from Tony’s hair to join the other on his hips, pulling Tony back into each thrust, punching moans from Tony’s mouth as each motion struck the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Just… Tony, just a bit more…”

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony whined, feeling the prick of tears in his eyes as he tried to focus on anything but the sparks flying up his spine with each thrust. He clung to the edge of the bartop, knuckles turning white. “Steve, I can’t… I… I’m…” 

“Now,” Steve growled, hips pistoning hard and fast and sloppy. Tony cried out as he felt his orgasm rip through him, his cock spurting against the edge of the bar, come dripping onto the floor. He shuddered against the oversensitivity as Steve thrust through it, pushed him past the edge until he was whining and keening and squirming against the bar. And then Steve struck forward with a shudder, his body stilling, all but the subtle motions of his hips rolling forward as Tony felt the heat of Steve’s release filling him, felt the twitch and pulse of his cock buried deep. 

For a moment, Tony faded out, his body limp and pliant with orgasm. He heard Steve speaking, whispering against his shoulder before he pulled back and was gone. Tony stayed where he was, balanced on the bar, still clinging to the edge. He could feel the slick trickle of Steve’s seed leaking out of him, trailing down the edge of his thigh. Tony was about to convince himself to get up and go take a shower when he felt a warm hand, gentle, at his lower back. 

“Tony?” Steve whispered, his voice unsure. Tony felt a warm cloth sweep through the mess on his thighs, moving higher to clean the sticky slide between his ass cheeks.

“Mmm?” Tony murmured, turning his head enough to see Steve watching with barely-constrained concern as he pressed the cloth gingerly against Tony’s sensitive hole. 

Steve didn’t look at Tony while he spoke, keeping himself focused on the slow movements of the cloth. “I’m sorry. I could have hurt you. You’re injured…” His hand lingered on Tony’s hip, where he was sure he could feel a pattern of bruises starting from Steve’s grip.

Tony placed his hand overtop Steve’s. “It’s okay, Steve. More than okay, really,” he replied, a cocky smirk pulling lazily at his mouth. “Now get me off this bar. It’s not as comfortable as I make it seem.”

Steve smiled, giving the front of the bar and the floor a perfunctory wipe with the cloth before helping Tony off the smooth surface and pulling him into his arms. “C’mon. Let’s get you into bed.”

“Only if you’re joining me,” Tony answered, trying to sound as flirtatious as he could while biting off the tail end of a yawn.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
